


night gone black

by LeaLPotter



Series: Tumblr Prompts [9]
Category: Glee
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bullying, Domestic, M/M, Slurs, Slut Shaming, ot3: we found love in a hopeless place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 03:17:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4505643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeaLPotter/pseuds/LeaLPotter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Kurt/Dave/Sebastian: Finding their daughter is laughed at in school because of the polygamous relationship of her fathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	night gone black

Dave had always thought Liz was a pretty cool kid.

Sebastian could grumble about playing favorites all he wanted, and Kurt could bitch about “responsible parenting” and an “effective reward/punishment system” until he turned blue, but Liz was his little girl.

It didn’t matter if it was just Kurt’s last name on her birth certificate and just Kurt’s blood in her veins. The three of them had kept their names as they were; no hyphens and no funny shit, and he wasn’t going to be the douche who named his kid after what sounded like a fucking law firm.

Besides, Sebastian could whine and whine and _whine_ : Dave had seen him enthralled by their girl’s baby babbling; he had woken up to find only Kurt in their bed because Bastian had been roped into yet another storytelling marathon; he had almost broken a rib trying to bottle down his laughter at the vision that was a red-faced Sebastian carrying arms upon arms of shopping bags all because “Aunt Rach offered to go with me, but Papa says he’ll salt and smoke her before she goes anywhere near any closet in the house, and _he_ has work, and so does Aunt Quinnie, and Daddy isn’t allowed in lingerie stores anymore, but I’m not supposed to know why, and I really, really need a bra, it’s _embarrassing_ ”.

When Kurt had taken the time to scrutinize her wardrobe, he had walked around all weekend positively glowing with pride; he had also showered Sebastian extra hugs and extended foot rubs.

Sebastian didn’t have a goddamn leg to stand on when it came to Liz since he was as undeniably whipped as Dave. He figured that, even if it had been his stuff or Sebastian’s going to town on Rachel’s  - and wasn’t that a horrifying image meant to shrivel any self-respecting gay man’s balls –, whatever _Liz_ might have come out from that mix, they could not possibly love her more.

Dave had terrible moments when he believed he would have loved his biological child _less_ for the lack of wide blue eyes and for not being able to jut out her bottom lip just the perfect amount to render two full-grown, able-minded men at her feet.

And just the two, since Kurt had some sort of freakish immunity that must come from shared world-domineering DNA.

And even as Liz went from drooling infant to stumbling toddler, from nosey pre-teen to unimpressionable teenager – and _God_ , where had all the years gone when just seconds ago Sebastian was throwing two identical platinum rings at Dave and Kurt’s heads, screeching about how he wasn’t going to be the shifty other woman to the both of them, and hadn’t that been a fucking night to remember –, even through all that time handling the most unstable yet so fucking worthwhile relationship he had ever seen with the addition of a permanent witness, Dave had always marveled at how well the whole thing had turned out.

Because, honestly, a Kurt Hummel/Rachel Berry cocktail was something that had a 99.99% chance of turning everything into gooey, foul smelling _shit_.

But Liz had turned out as sweet as Kurt high on golden reviews, as docile as Rachel drunk on more solos she could possibly perform, and Dave couldn’t help but preen and gloat, because environment did _so_ trump DNA.

So the sudden disappearing act she had been pulling for a solid two weeks now was a little unnerving, to say the least. It wasn’t like they sat her down and forced her to perk up and socialize after the obligatory family dinner, but she had always seemed content to suffer their company for another hour. And what was up with her snotty little “I’m _sixteen_ , guys”, anyway? Dave had always tinkered around with his schedule to be able to pick her up from the dozens of extracurriculars she had going at all times, and his daughter had always seemed grateful enough to avoid the “Papa, it smells like _people_ ” school bus or the “Dad, it smells like _homeless_ people” underground.

( _So maybe he had babied her a little. What with her old hope chest overflowing with white and pink ruffles plus her own tiara case, Bastian should really keep his trap shut._ )

Dave was far from being pleased with all the emancipation going on at his house, and Kurt’s saddened “She’s a teenage girl, honey” and Bastian’s unhelpful “Worst case scenario, we bribe her” did nothing to assure him that he was not so completely out of line has he thought.

But, door banging.

 _“I’m not hungry!”_ which was _not_ something anyone in their right minds and with fully-functioning taste buds would ever think of uttering whenever Kurt Hummel was hit with a sudden bout of culinary inspiration.

The sign at the door, when she had never been _that kid_.

And there was that phone call from the school counselor, a measly, twitchy middle-aged woman with the fear of God in her beady eyes, a woman Dave was sure could not possibly have any tangible qualifications for her post considering the vague ramblings constantly interrupted by scratchy throat clearings and the really fucking annoying habit of turning perfectly good affirmatives into quivering questions.

Well, so maybe Dave didn’t know jackshit about the woman’s qualifications, but his nerves had been wound up so tight after slamming down the phone that he’d yelled Kurt’s head off the moment he decided to peek it from the doorway to take dinner suggestions. They had gone through three whole days of takeout food – when Sebastian’s roast became too much for them, which happened as soon as the smoke alarm went off for the third time – and Kurt leveling hurt glares at Dave until Sebastian hissed out through gritted teeth that he _would_ take Liz for an extended road trip far away from psychotic, emotionally stunted role-models until both of them came to their senses. Liz had cheered and toasted to that with the remains of her Dad’s beer, and that was the first time Dave had seen his daughter smile in months.

“Something’s up with Liz,” he declared one night, sitting on the bed peeling off his socks, while Kurt sauntered back and forth from their ensuite bathroom to the bedroom and a buck-naked Sebastian lay sprawled on his stomach going over the yawn-worthy notes from his latest case.

Kurt gave him that little head tilt of his, the meaning of which could go from “The workings of your mind never fail to confound me” to “Leave those socks on the floor and I’ll take the greatest pleasure in cold-bloodedly murdering you in our bed”. Sebastian grunted distractedly and scowled harder at his own scrawling.

“Computers, Sebastian. A typewriter, even. Everything but that runic scribbling you call handwriting,” Kurt quipped as he breezed by the bed, his hand trailing soothingly up Sebastian’s naked back. The corners of his mouth twitched when his fingertips brushed the sensitive shell of Sebastian’s ear, causing him to push up into the caress absentmindedly.

Dave frowned at his toes, digging them into the plush rug.

“Seriously.”

Kurt sat down at the vanity table with a drawn-out sigh, long fingers tapping restlessly on the polished tabletop. His body was angled towards the mirror, but his eyes had never been less focused on his own reflection.

Sebastian dropped his head face first onto his improvised pillow, groaning.

Dave wanted to _shake_ them.

“There’s _something_.”

Kurt sighed again, rolling his eyes obviously enough for Dave to catch it on the edge of the mirror. “There’s always something, Dave. She _is_ sixteen.”

Sebastian nodded into the pile with a rustling noise of crumpled up paper.

Dave shook his head in frustration and let himself fall back onto the bed, his shirt still half-undone, his head pillowed against the side of Sebastian’s bare ass. His husband glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow but seemed to take pity on Dave’s dejected state and leaned his upper body sideways on one elbow, reaching over to Dave’s boxer-clad crotch and patting it reassuringly, letting his hand linger there as a bonus. Dave’s mouth turned up slightly at the comfort of the familiar gesture, his eyes drifting closed, his mind a little numbed by Sebastian’s warmth and Kurt’s faint humming from across the room.

“The counselor… she was _worried_ ,” he murmured sluggishly. The long day was catching up to him, and Sebastian’s steady breathing and monotonous whispered self-discussion was lulling him right into dreamland.

The lights dimmed; the bed dipped beside him and there were soft hands tugging off his remaining sock and fiddling with the buttons of his shirt. He mumbled a half-hearted protest but let Kurt tug him this way and the other to strip him down to his underwear.

( _“She’s been so distant lately. Rachel says it’s just hormones and hot air, but… Talk to her Dave. I’m not saying that… but no one talked to_ me _.”_ )

He heard a crinkling of paper and whimpered when his pillow slid away from him; Sebastian chuckled warmly, whispering something over to Kurt that Dave couldn’t catch, but that must have been highly amusing and concerning him, judging by his husband’s breathy giggle and the consequent tender kiss he pressed to Dave’s forehead.

(“ _She’s good at keeping quiet. Just like Kurt was. Make her talk to you, I don’t care what you do, but do it. Or one day it’ll just blow up in your face when you least expect it, and you got a messed up kid in a chokehold and no idea where to go from there.”_ )

He was rolled onto his stomach and inside the covers; soon there was no more light filtering through his eyelids and there were naked limbs slithering all over his prone body. He didn’t really like being cradled between them for a whole night; that was usually Kurt’s spot, and occasionally Bastian’s, but Dave tended to be the cuddler, not the cuddlee. Also their AC had heaved its last balmy sigh almost a week before, and Dave wasn’t very fond of waking up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat and sighing for an icy nirvana far away from overly-handsy lifetime partners.

( _“She deleted her Facebook account. There were… you know, just stupid people. The “Aww, Babs has two Mommies” kind of stupid, uncle Dave. But I shouldn’t… that’s Liza’s… it’s her business.”_ )

But his mind was still on his daughter’s locked door and apathetic murmurs, and Bas and Kurt were experts in manipulating him into prime body-pillow position whenever he was at his most vulnerable. He grumbled in his sleepy daze, sighing quietly whenever Kurt’s hair tickled the underside of his jaw or Sebastian’s leg twitched between his thighs.

( _“There’s… Mr. Karofsky, there’s been some…. Incidents. I don’t mean to… there’s no real need for alarm, but maybe…_ ”)

 

~~~~~

  

“Honestly, Mr. Karofsky… I believe this will all fizzle away into nothing sooner than later. Children, you know… boys will be boys?” Ms. Mathews assured him to the best of her capability, balking slightly at Dave’s thunderous expression.

“ _Boys_?” he gritted out.

( _“Boys will be boys, Paul. I’m sure Davey meant nothing by it. Just one of those harmless situations that can so easily get out of hand, and I’ve heard about that…_ boy _. Bailey and I were just talking about it the other day, we always thought Carole Hudson had a little more sense than subjecting her son to… well, day and_ night _, under the same roof, I would_ never…”)

Something sad and helpless flashed across Ms. Mathews face. She pursed her thin lips in a hard line, glancing distractedly around the hallway outside her office.

“Girls are more... discreet, Mr. Karofsky. High school dynamics are fascinating from an outsider’s perspective, but…” She trailed off, her shoulders hunching forward. “There’s so much _hate_. So cruel, all of them, and the girls… they hit so close to home.” She heaved a dejected sigh and started fiddling with the hem of her worn, faded cardigan. “The boys are almost harmless… but only by comparison.”

Dave clenched his fists, eyeing the shiny surface of the grey school lockers, his mind reeling with déjà vu. He turned away.

“So there have been boys. Girls. Attacks.”

Ms. Mathews covered her mouth and shook her head in desolation.

“ _Attacks_ , Mr. Karofsky, honestly...” She paused, looking him square in the eye for the first time in a whole hour of exasperating information mining. “There are no witnesses coming forth. There is no tangible proof of foul play, and…” she stammered, struggling for diplomacy. “Well, Liza is not exactly the easiest child to work with.”

His brow furrowed heavily as he stared her down, uncomprehending.

“What do you mean?”

She blinked at him in surprise.

“Certainly you know your own daughter, Mr. Karofsky.”

( _“Why, Dave? What else haven’t you told me? This… that boy, Kurt, he wasn’t lying. He was telling me my son is a_ bully _, and he wasn’t lying. I… it feels like I don’t even know you anymore, David. My own son, and I didn’t…_ )

 

 ~~~~~

 

“Well, she’s kind of a bitch.”

“ _Sebastian_ ,” Kurt chastised, but it was almost an after-thought; Dave could see it in the lax curve of his shoulders, in the way he hadn’t even lifted his eyes from his sketchbook or his bare feet from Sebastian’s lap.

Sebastian pressed his thumbs into the arch of Kurt’s right foot, forcing a breathy moan out of his husband. Sebastian shot him a smug half-smirk, and kept up the good work.

“ _Babe_. As if you didn’t know. She _is_ your own stone and ice sludge, after all.” He winced as Kurt’s chilly toes sneaked under his shirt to dig into the warm skin of his abdomen in retaliation. “Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Kurt quipped easily, returning to his drafts with a focused frown.

Dave glared up at both of them from his seat on the floor between Sebastian’s legs; he let out a pronounced sigh, and leaned his forehead against Bastian’s knee.

( _“He must be way better in bed than Blaine let on, for you to put up with the whiny, pasty-faced princess all day. Did he blow you yet? I bet he won’t, the little prude. Seriously, Dave, what in the holy name of fucking did you ever see in Gayface?_ )

“Y’know, she’s your daughter too.” Dave shrugged as Sebastian raised his eyebrows at him. “You might wanna tone down the insults around her. Parental trauma and such.”

Sebastian and Kurt shared a look, one of those strange telepathic glances that used to make Dave’s stomach churn, and his knuckles itch. Over the years he had noticed his own brand of telepathy that involved his palm cupping Kurt’s elbow or his feet kicking Sebastian’s ankle hard underneath the table. It wasn’t earning him any trophies for subtlety, but at least it always drove his point home.

“Sebastian doesn’t mean –“ Kurt started, his forehead scrunching up quizzically.

“It’s a _compliment_ , you ass. Liza’s much better off being the lovely cold-blooded fiend she is than turning into a worthless pushover, like those little fuckers want her to –“

“ _Sebastian_ ,” and there was no vagueness in Kurt’s tone this time. His warning cut sharp through Sebastian’s expression, making him clamp his mouth shut without so much as another peep.

Well, Dave was no fucking idiot, even if those two were happily making him look the part.

“You knew,” he articulated deliberately slow, his voice dripping with accusation. He stood up with a start, staggering away from the couch and almost toppling over their pricey yet fragile coffee table. “What have you been playing at, you _knew_ something was off, you _knew_ what was wrong and didn’t bother to fucking clue me in?” He spread his hands in front of him, turning to Kurt who had been eyeing him warily, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip. “Fuck, Kurt, I would expect shit like this from _Sebastian_ ,” he flapped his hand in his husband’s direction, ignoring the tension around Sebastian’s locked jaw, “but you? Do you even know – Jesus, I’ve barely slept these last few days, thinking she might be – I don’t even know _what_ , but you obviously do,” he snarled, slamming his hand down on the head rest of the nearest armchair.

Kurt was up as soon as he grew quiet, reaching for Dave’s shaking hands with his own. Dave jerked away, almost shoving Kurt back onto the couch.

He yanked his jacket off the coat hanger and left without a backwards glance, slamming the front door behind him.

 

~~~~~

 

“Daddy?”

Dave’s head snapped up, his eyes finally leaving the hell-sent paperwork he had been mulling over for the last two hours.

His daughter stood leaning against the doorway of his office, her expression more tentative and unsure than he ever wanted it to be.

“What – Shouldn’t you be at school?” he asked, still a little bewildered. Then something clicked in his head with the sound of a trigger being pulled, _Kurt_ , _Bas_ , and he was out of his chair and stumbling across the room in less time than it took Liz to smile reassuringly.

“Nothing happened, Daddy, they’re _fine_. Everyone’s fine.” She paused emphatically, her eyebrows disappearing beneath her bangs. “Which, of course, you would _know_ if you went home for more than just crashing on the couch.”

Dave gulped, repressing the urge to squirm under her judging glare. He was a full-grown adult, wholly responsible for his own actions and _not_ a chickenshit closet-case with a need for an attitude fix.

“That’s none of –“

“My business, yes.”

“It’s just between me and –“

“My dads, I know.”

“Stop–“

“Being a brat? A smartass? Little Miss Loudmouth?” she offered, rolling her eyes in a fashion so eerily similar to Kurt’s that it always managed to mellow him up in the worst possible occasion. “They take turns with Aunt Rach. Aunt Quinnie is the only one talking like a sane human being instead of a pod person, but she doesn’t know much either, so –“ She sighed quietly, the corners of her mouth tugging downwards. “You should come home. Properly. Papa’s a verifiable walking and talking _nerve_ and Dad’s not faring much better, either.” Her nose twitched with distaste. “He locked Mrs. Birkins' Chihuahua in the garage.”

Dave choked on laughter, the pressure on his chest lifting just the slightest bit.

“The rat’s a menace. Besides, Bas has been threatening to do that for _ages_.”

She nodded pointedly, her eyes widening dramatically. “ _Threatening_. Then, last night, we were having dinner – Daddy, _please_ come home, if I have to go through one more of those you’ll have to institutionalize me, I mean it, the silverware _echoes_ – and Tiberius kept yapping and yapping, you know those screechy little noises he makes, no one would call that a _bark_ , and Dad, you should have seen him, he gets all thunder and menace, slams down his glass – you guys watch _way_ to much bad drama – and goes out the door without a word.” She grabbed his arm and led him over to one of the chairs in front of his desk, choosing to sit on his own ergonomic chair without even a glance to ask for permission. “Papa just kind of stood there, staring at Dad’s chair, and I was almost going after him when Tiberius _finally_ shut up so I thought I’d just stay put because, you know, accessory to the crime and all.”

He let himself laugh at that, wanting nothing more than to hug her breathless and ruffle her hair, but he learned fast after almost having his hand bitten off the last time he tried that.

Her face grew somber and she lowered her eyes to the top of his desk, her eyebrows knitting together.

“It’s her own fault for letting him out on the hallway.” She traced one finger over the framed picture of the four of them. “I look like a moron in here,” she mused, jumping subjects fast enough to make him a little dizzy. “Papa got sunburn and half his nose was peeling off, and Dad still had that beanie he took everywhere even though it made Papa want to hurl.” Liz narrowed her eyes. “ _Because_ , right? God, those two.” She tilted her head at the picture then glanced up at Dave. “And _you_ still had that skin rash. I mean, what even.”

He beamed at her and jerked his chin to the frame, holding out his hand. She passed it to him wordlessly.

“Your Dad had just told that joke, you _know_ the one, and your Papa was cackling like he was _deranged_ , like he always does. See?” He traced his fingertips slowly over Kurt’s wide grin, clearing his throat when he caught his daughter’s knowing smile. “And that was the first time we took you to the beach, remember? You went bat-shit _insane_ that day.” He grinned back at the slip of a girl waving maniacally at the camera. “And that beanie was really fucking adorable,” he observed, his eyes soft and warm as he took in his family.

She snorted and stole the frame back, giving it a dismissive glance before returning it to its original place. “Aunt Quinnie works wonders even with subpar models.”

He shook his head at her in a mock threat. “Watch who you’re calling ‘subpar’, rugrat. Not seeing you on any glossy covers lately, either.” He sobered and met her eyes searchingly. “So, no fire, no flood, no looming death threats. Mrs. Birkins will probably sue your Dad’s ass, but he’s used to that already.” She opened her mouth but he held up one hand, silencing her. “And I never left. This _is_ between me and your dads, so –“

“My locker got spray-painted last week,” she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. “’ _Slut’_. Original, huh?” She made a face at the documental mess on his desk, as if only noticing it then. “I don’t care. Ignorant gorillas, the lot of them. Even the females. And I don’t care about the notes, and the disgusting catcalls, the _slurs_.” She laughed mirthlessly, and it cut through Dave like an acid burn. “They’re not _homophobes_. I mean, who is in this day and age, right? It would be… easier, I guess, if they were, ‘cause that would just be ridiculous and an express expulsion ticket. They’re the Avengers of Monogamy – they have _flags_. And an hymn.”

“Liz –“

“A short one, though. They’re still trying to rhyme ‘promiscuous’, but none of them really knows what it means so they’re kind of stumped for now. I would have suggested ‘polygamous’, but then I’d have to _explain_ , and _God_ , the headache.”

Dave wasn’t seeing straight. His vision was getting red around the edges and he had to grip his seat to keep from storming off into the closest, most illegal gun shop he could find and then he would –

“But I don’t – it doesn’t _matter_. They can throw whatever they want at me, I don’t give a _fuck_. “ She glanced at him apprehensively and in any other life he would have laughed and brought out the swear jar, he would have –

He would have.

“Papa knew right from the beginning. I didn’t – I couldn’t tell _anyone_ , but he just – he knew. Figured it out.” She reached out to cover his white-knuckled fists; he looked down in shock, not having noticing the sad remains of the pencil he had managed to break into five pieces. “He told Dad and Aunt Rach heard by accident, but they didn’t – Papa didn’t want to tell you. Dad did, but he ended up agreeing with him. We’ve been looking at other options for –“

“Transferring,” retorted Dave, the repressed violence in his voice scaring him more than anything.

Liz nodded curtly. “I’ll finish this semester. I have to, and I will. I don’t care about them. But I can’t concentrate, and it’s not _fair_ that I can’t walk over to my locker without some _Neanderthal_ tripping me up and hooting out ‘Nympho!’ at every chance they get.” She dug her chin into her chest, her hair falling over the sides of her face like a glossy curtain. “I thought I’d just deal for now, and then – then it would be fine again, it would be good again. But _today_ –“

Dave held his breath, his mind locking up in a panic, _Oh God, don’t let it, fuck, please, not her, not my girl, Jesus, please_ –

“But there was this boy today. A freshman, and he looked the part, too, tiny and awkward and _scared_. They were taking turns giving him swirlies, mouthing off about his ‘whore mom’ and his ‘limp-dicked dads’, how they didn’t want that kind of trash at _their_ school, when were the private showings at his house and how much did his mom ask for to take it up the –“ She dissolved in sobs, covering her face with violently trembling hands, her body folding into itself until she was curled on his chair.

He circled the chair in a daze, tripping over his paper basket and slamming his knee on a half-open drawer, but later he would only look baffled at the bruise, because he couldn’t feel, he couldn’t hear, there was that pounding in his head that was only half-relief, the rush of blood audible for once, he could barely see, and then only dimly and only his daughter, his baby girl, Liz, Liz, _Liza_ and she was a fucking wreck, had probably been for months now and he hadn’t known, how could he not.

He just wanted to strangle Kurt and Sebastian and to go to his knees for advice, because they had been dealing with this shit without him but they had been _dealing_ , and how did one go about comforting their kid and telling them it was fine, or that I would be, when one knew it wasn’t, it could never possibly be, and he just felt like sobbing his heart out alongside her.

He didn’t call home. He didn’t call Rachel, or Quinn, or his dad or even _Burt_ , even though that would have been the smartest thing to do, since Burt was someone who could tell them it would be fine and be _right_. He took the rest of the day off, not even bothering with a real excuse – and really, the crying mess of a teenage girl holding onto his arm with a death grip should be excuse enough – and drove them to the animal shelter.

Liz followed him out of the car easily enough, even though she kept glancing around with huge, constantly watering eyes. Only when they reached the cage area did she turn to him with a questioning look.

“You’ve wanted one for ages.”

She looked down at a creamy pit-bull puppy gnawing at its floppy ear determinedly, and Dave crowed internally as her lips quirked into a heart-felt smile.

“You can’t – you don’t need to fix this, and you _can’t_ fix it with a pet, Daddy.”

“I will fix it, love. One way or another, we’ll work it out.” He beamed down at her, even if it made the rigid muscles of his face contract painfully. “Puppy’s just a bonus.”

“Papa won’t let you.”

“Just as long as we steer clear of the hairier drool-dispensers, I don’t think he’ll mind all that much.”

“Dad is not much of a dog person.”

“Your Dad’s not a Chihuahua person and, honestly, if you end up picking one of those, it stays in the garage.”

She kept her expression blank as she glanced around at the multi-colored, multi-sized specimens. However, and despite her struggle, she didn’t manage to suppress a small _oh_ of pure endearment when they passed by the goofiest four-legged creature Dave had ever laid eyes on. It looked like it might be a black Lab and Bulldog mix, among other things.

When Liz crouched down to get a better look, the pup tried to stick its snout out, but it never quite managed to do so, though it persevered, bumping its head continuously against the bars. Dave was ready to suggest they moved on to something with a few more  - read, _some_ – IQ points, but the moment he looked down at his daughter he knew she was done for. She was gazing at the excitable creature licking eagerly at her fingers with what he could not help but deem _puppy love_. He resigned himself to his fate, knowing his expression was probably a mirror image of Burt Hummel’s on the day of his son’s wedding.

After filling the unavoidable paperwork and scheduling the date for taking the mutt home with them –

(“ _But, Daddy, can’t we take him now, please, let’s take him now, look at him, c’mon!”_ )

\- Dave felt a little more composed and sure of his footing. He knew Kurt and Sebastian would have some objections to the latest addition to the family, but Dave also had some objections to being unceremoniously subtracted from the family loop. Even if he could see where Kurt had been coming from with that, it did not make it all right, and he would make sure to let them know.

 

~~~~~

 

“I get up earlier than you. I have the right to watch the morning news in peace without some snoring fart-geyser squatting on my couch.”

“What Sebastian is trying to say here,” started Kurt sparing a reproving glare at his sulking husband, “is that he would really appreciate it if you came back to our bed, Dave. _Really_ appreciate,” he stressed with wide, earnest eyes.

Sebastian opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again at Kurt’s unimpressed eye roll and _blushed_.

 _That_ , even more than the covert death trap that was their ridiculously expensive couch, was what had talked Dave into stripping the beddings off of the leather cushions and dumping them dutifully in the laundry basket.

Kurt locking the door with fumbling fingers and turning around to shove him onto his back on the bed, then crawling all over him with an hungry glint in his eyes was a definite plus, though, as were the desperate, broken noises Bastian kept making as Dave sucked new marks on his husband’s long neck.

“That was –“

“Oh _God_ , don’t you dare cliché away my buzz,” groaned Sebastian with his eyes still closed, his trembling legs laying akimbo on the bed.

“It _always_ is,” murmured Kurt, lifting his head from Dave’s shoulder to kiss his cheek.

 _Yeah_ , Dave assented to himself, drifting into unconsciousness, _it really is, thank fucking God_.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Garbage's "Only Happy When It Rains".


End file.
